| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Statesman by Plato: by killing some, or exiling some; whether they reduce the size of the body
corporate by sending out from the hive swarms of citizens, or, by
introducing persons from without, increase it; while they act according to
the rules of wisdom and justice, and use their power with a view to the
general security and improvement, the city over which they rule, and which
has these characteristics, may be described as the only true State. All
other governments are not genuine or real; but only imitations of this, and
some of them are better and some of them are worse; the better are said to
be well governed, but they are mere imitations like the others.
YOUNG SOCRATES: I agree, Stranger, in the greater part of what you say;
but as to their ruling without laws--the expression has a harsh sound.
Statesman |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Unseen World and Other Essays by John Fiske: is heard, of sopranos and contraltos divided, singing, "Remember
from whence thou art fallen," to an accompaniment of harps. The
second theme, "He that overcometh shall receive a crown of life,"
is introduced in full chorus, in a cheering allegro movement,
preparing the way for a climax higher than any yet reached in the
course of the work. This climax--delayed for a few moments by an
andante aria for a contralto voice, "The Lord is faithful and
righteous"--at last bursts upon us with a superb crescendo of
strings, and the words, "Awake, thou that sleepest, arise from
the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." This chorus, which
for reasons presently to be given was heard at considerable
The Unseen World and Other Essays |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Buttered Side Down by Edna Ferber: fold of flabby tissue--knew all the waiters by their right names,
and insisted on singing with the orchestra and beating time with a
rye roll. The clatter of dishes was giving way to the clink of
glasses.
In the big, bright kitchen back, of the Pink Fountain room
Miss Gussie Fink sat at her desk, calm, watchful, insolent-eyed, a
goddess sitting in judgment. On the pay roll of the Newest Hotel
Miss Gussie Fink's name appeared as kitchen checker, but her
regular job was goddessing. Her altar was a high desk in a corner
of the busy kitchen, and it was an altar of incense, of
burnt-offerings, and of showbread. Inexorable as a goddess of the
Buttered Side Down |
